Novel & Cerita The Gentleman's Gambit

"Are you still here? You really want to gamble with your life for a few bucks?" "Thanks... Thank you!" The man mumbled his thanks and stumbled toward the estate's grand entrance. The man in black gave Howard and his two friends another look, seemingly taken aback by their presence, then silently headed back to the lobby. The trio made their way into the grand hall on the first floor. All around, the hall was decked out with every gambling contraption imaginable, and crowds were gathered around each table. They took a lap, sizing up the high-stakes games where bets soared to 150 thousand dollars a pop.

Gemma was draped on his arm, her dress too tight, her smile too bright as she laughed at whatever the man beside her was saying. I felt nothing looking at them. No fear. No pain. Just cold, calculating anticipation. They had no idea what was coming. I accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a slow sip, allowing myself this moment of observation before diving in. The room buzzed with speculation about the bid announcement. Everyone knew it was down to two finalists: Blake Huntington and Richard Jones. Only I knew which way it would go. I’d made sure of it. It hadn’t taken anything illegal to make it happen. Just the loan of a painting from Cassie’s collection.

William was painfully aware he was being observed and that alone was enough to make him feel nervous. "No, no. Thank you." He stuttered. "Ah, I see there isn't much you want, then. Besides winning the money on the table, that is." The gentleman gestured at the four cards on the table with the pile of money and a few jewels next to it. He leaned forward then and said lazily "I know you don't have anything besides those two sevens and from what I've counted so far, those are your strongest ones." He took a sip from his glass and folded his own cards.

They say that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and I’m trying like hell to do that but…after three months of cat and mouse games, my prey just walked into my office and delivered herself to me. A gift horse indeed. Or maybe a Trojan horse? What’s Dobrev up to now? Our middle man, John, welcomes her in with a bow. “Miss Dobrev, you’re looking well.” he says. “Uh huh.” She nodded, “You’re looking…prosperous.” She tells John. I’m hard put not to snort with laughter.

All in all, the gamble earned him over a hundred of them, and Gerald was sure that that amount would be able to sustain him for quite a while… “Alright, let’s go! I’ve won enough!” said Gerald, content with all the holy stones he had just earned. He, for one, knew that it was always best to stop gambling once fortune was earned… Whatever the case was, he then grabbed Yale’s arm and began heading toward the casino’s exit. However, leaving a casino was never easy if one had just won money. This proved to be true when a few tough-looking men stopped them from leaving. Following that, a man—with a scar on his face—walked up to Gerald and Yale before saying in a sinister tone, “Gentlemen! You can

Everyone talked lightly and cohesively, but I noticed the gentleman who was accompanied by the girl, he looked at me more than usual. The game master explained again how the game would be and then started it. They were already placing the bets. I noticed that the first two men were much more cautious, preferring to start with very small bets, but the gentleman who was looking at me suggestively was bold enough to bet about ten thousand dollars in a single move, making everyone there on the table panting in amazement. “Why don’t we have some real fun?” He said it with a laugh. “Aww, what a tempting bet!” The girl who was with him exclaimed, clinging to the man. “You’re going to shower me with

She said, "Bob, Jay doesn't have the money." Bob said coldly, "If he doesn't have the money, don't gamble. Justin, who gave you the courage and confidence to lose millions?" Justin finally retorted, "I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to win." "Ha!” Bob sneered. "You wanted to win? Where's the money now? How many gamblers enter the casino wanting to lose, but how many actually win? Hand it over." Justin clutched the property papers tightly and looked at Mildred.

He answered casually, "I don't need any chips. All I need is one move to win against you. If I win, that man will be mine. His gambling debt will be written off." Hearing his statements, the man across the table grimaced in obvious discontent. Just before he snapped, Caleb spoke again, calmly and deliberately, "If I lose, I'll triple the number of chips in front of you plus the gambling debt this man owes you." This was a risky trade. However, Bert was once again tempted. These chips in front of him were not in small quantities. Bert was a veteran of this casino. He frequently suppressed guests who came here to bet using some of his own means.

“When men gamble, they do one of two things: they either grumble or they boast. And both are exaggerated. Nothing is as bad as they seem to make it sound, and none of them excel at whatever they are talking about to the extent that they would have one believe. But often the topics revolve around their wives or their mistresses” Reaching out, she touches a fold in my tie, her fingers working to right what I am not certain needs to be righted. My gut tightens as though she had gone further and actually removed the blasted neckcloth, in anticipation of removing everything. “You didn’t answer my question regarding how much”. She says. “As much as you like”. She lifts her gaze to mine, and I am g

I won’t. “Six,” someone counters, desperate. “Ten.” A beat of silence. Then… “Fifteen.” I finally let my gaze flick toward him. He’s still leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a tumbler of something amber. His eyes are on me, unblinking. Not on my tits, not on my ass, on my face. Like he’s memorizing the way my lips part when I’m caught off guard. Mr. Graves clears his throat. “The gentleman has outbid the rest. Shall we proceed?”